


Will They Tell Our Story?

by TellMyLegacy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Best of Wives, Best of Women, Eliza's POV, F/M, Freedom, Gen, Stay Alive, Time - Freeform, Who Lives?, Who Tells Your Story?, Who dies?, it's quiet uptown
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:45:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7205939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TellMyLegacy/pseuds/TellMyLegacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time was such a strange melody. When Peggy had died, Eliza felt like the day lasted just a second. Short, pure with pain, incomprehensible as she lost her younger sister to the hands of death. When her mother died, the night felt like early morning, the beginning of just another sorrowful day. When Philip, her son, threw away his shot, the day was slow, never ending, a loop of misery that crawled to her insides and resided on her very own soul. When Alexander laid with Eliza for the last time, holding her hand, the day was like a hurricane- quiet, but ever so loud inside her mind.</p><p>Time was such a strange melody, and she felt like she was running out of time.</p><p> </p><p> <em>"Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing." -Benjamin Franklin</em></p><p> </p><p>(The story of the woman who gave up her life to save her husband's legacy. But, <em>who will tell her story?</em>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Best of Wives and Best of Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best of Wives and Best of Women.

_July 11, 1804._

Eliza never quite understood why Alexander always wrote like he was running out of time. 

From the moment she gazed at his eyes, she just knew that he was hiding something from the world. Perhaps it had been a pain too deep from his childhood, or a fatal event he witnessed. Whatever it was, Eliza knew that it made Alexander build up defenses.

Which is why she never brought up this certain topic, and decided to just be the best wife she could possibly be. 

However, it was hours past midnight when she heard the scratching noises coming from the other side of the room. She’d have to be deaf to not recognize the familiar quill noises Alexander made from writing endless words.

She cracked her eyes open, and noticed his hunch form sitting in the desk. She stared for a few seconds, hesitating whether she should tell him something.

Had it been years before, Eliza would have grabbed him by the arms, hauling him to his feet, kissed him tenderly and led him to their bed, effectively closing the writing gates of his mind.

Now, she was unsure of what to do. Alexander was not the same man she married many years ago. He was now the Alexander she dreaded the most, the Alexander who always chose himself before others. This Alexander had hurt her in a million different ways, from ruining their marriage, to handing a gun to their son. Everything had change. 

But Eliza never lost herself. 

“Alexander come back to sleep.” Her own echoed through the silent night, and she watched as his back tensed slightly before relaxing.

“I have an early meeting out of town.” He said, folding the paper he had been writing on in half, before lightly stroking the quill in the front again. 

“It's still dark outside.” She responded, standing up from the warm covers surrounding her body in the otherwise chilly night.

“I know,” he said, and she noticed the light shaking on his shoulders. “I just need to write something down.”

“Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” She asked, bitterly recalling the moments where his wonderful ability to write made her helplessly fall in love with him, and when those same words stabbed her endlessly in the heart when she read about his infidelity. “Come back to bed, that would be enough.”

“I’ll be back before you know I’m gone.” He said, and then Eliza hugged his chest close to her own, placing her hand on his heartbeat and simply relishing the constant beating. She felt his shaking reside slightly, and she smiled, knowing that she still had an effect on him, however small it might be. 

“Come back to sleep.” She tried again, placing her head on top of his, closing her eyes for a second and imagining that everything was perfect. 

Alas, as soon as she opened her eyes, the painful events of the past crashed into her like a cold bucket of water, and she had to take a breath to steady herself.

“This meeting’s at dawn.” He shook his head, and placed the letter under his quill. Eliza noticed with wide eyes that the letter was for her. She decided to not mention anything.

“Well I'm going back to sleep.” She announced, and turned to walk back towards the bed. Before she could take a step, Alexander's hand was wrapped around her wrist in a strong, yet tender grip.

That was when she looked into his eyes. 

They were like hurricanes, wild, frantic. Yet, there was a sort of resignation as she took note of the faint trail of tears in his hollow cheeks. He looked destroyed, and Eliza felt helpless. 

“Hey,” his smile wavered slightly as he cupped her face in his calloused hands, “best of wives and best of women.”

He kissed her forehead softly, and she smiled. 

Because she knew that she will always be helpless under his love. And she knew that as long as he came home at the end of the day, that will always be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Comments and Kudos are deeply appreciated. Stay tuned for more! Thank you for reading! 
> 
> (This was supposed to be Eliza's POV of my other story "Best of Wives and Best of Women," however, there are some things that do not coincide.)
> 
> INSPIRED BY LIN MANUEL MIRANDA'S BROADWAY MUSICAL "Hamilton." INVOLVES MANY LINES FROM THE MUSICAL. THANK YOU!


	2. Stay Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revelation.

It was near midday when a young boy came knocking to the house, extending a letter in his hands, saying, “For Mrs. Hamilton.”

She smiled at the boy, “thank you.” The boy nodded and ran off as Eliza entered her house, closing the door gently.

She sat on the sofa as she opened the letter, frowning as she read the contents.

> _ Mrs. Hamilton, _
> 
> _ This letter is purposely written to express the immediate attention your husband seeks. It appears as though he suffers from a ritual of spasms that have rendered him immobile in the house of his dear friend, Mr. Bayard. _
> 
> _ While your husband has informed us that this is quite normal, we are in need of further comfort. I also believe Mr. Hamilton might become relieved and cured of this pains by seeing his lovely wife in such time of discomfort. _
> 
> _ Please, Mrs. Hamilton, come as soon as possible to Bayard’s Residence. We shall await your needed presence with anxiousness clouding our minds. _
> 
> _ Sincerely, _
> 
> _ O. Wolcott _

  
  


Shaking her head, she sighed as she went to her children’s room. It was a bit before dawn, so it was understandable for her children to be asleep at such early hours. With a bit of guilt, she woke James with gentle shakes and tender whispers, “James, son. Wake.”

He turned to face her, his eyes glassy, filled with sleep. He mumbled, “Mother? Is it time for chores yet?”

Eliza whispered, “No, my son. However, I need you to care for your brothers and sisters. Your father seems to have gotten sick, and I am needed by his side.”

That woke him up instantly.

“Is he alright? Is he injured?”

“Everything’s alright, it just seems like a couple of spams have tired him.” He nodded. She kissed his forehead, “I’ll be back soon. Aunt Angelica might come by later, she’ll help you with Little Phil and Holly.”

“Alright, mother.” He said, “Send father our love.”

She smiled, and walked towards the entrance, locking the front door once she stood outside in the warm weather. She decided to walk towards Bayard’s house, it was, after all, not that far from the Grange. However, she first had to see Angelica.

When she came to her sister’s house, she started to hesitate slightly. It was still early in the morning. But Eliza knew Angelica like her own mind, and she was completely sure that her sister must be in the company of a novel with a cup of tea this early in the day.

Sure enough, after knocking on the wooden door, Angelica appeared in her signature coral dress, with _The Iliad_ clutched in her other hand. A smile broke in her features once she noticed her dearest sister, “Eliza! Why are you up so early?”

She laughed, “My sister, you pain me! I always wake early! It is you, however, that is too deep within your fantasy to notice the company I provide.”

Both sisters giggled, and after inviting Eliza in, who declined, she asked, “Why are you so hurried? Do you not have time for your dearest Angelica? Enjoy a cup of tea while we appreciate the joys of literature.”

“My sister,” Eliza started, “I’m afraid I came by to ask for your assistance. Would you be so kind as to keep my children company while I’m out? It seems Alexander is ill, such sickness that rendered him bed ridden! This always did seem to occur to him, but I still want to be by his side.”

“Of course,” Angelica responded with no hesitation, “I’ll go over right now. Send Alexander my best wishes.”

Eliza smiled, and shook her head affectionately as she heard the strain in her sister’s voice at the last sentence. While Eliza might have forgiven him for his treacherous, sinful acts, her dearest Angelica holds a deep prejudice against him after all these years.

“Thank you, Angie.” She kissed her sister’s cheek, and left with no further diversion. She arrived at her destination in less than ten minutes, and frowned once she noticed the masses of people standing outside the residence.

As she walked towards the front door slowly, the people parted at her nearing, muttering behind hands while looking at her with pity in their eyes. Eliza frowned, but a heavy pang fell upon her stomach once she heard the word “duel” fall from a woman’s lips.

She approached the wooden door and knocked with impatience, almost hitting the servant that opened the door, “I’m so sorry. I’m Mr. Hamilton’s wife, is my husband well?”

The servant frowned lightly, and quickly led her to the second floor, where she could feel the dread pooling in her stomach. The servant pointed to a door in the far left corner, and Eliza muttered a small “thank you,” as she walked towards the door.

She grasped the handle, and braced herself.

A gasp flew from her lips as she noticed her dear husband looking sickly pale, bloody bandages covering his chest as a doctor loomed over him. Alexander noticed his wife standing by the door, a horrified expression in her face. He winced at the pain, and said, “My dearest, my Betsy. I’m sorry.”

Eliza couldn’t speak, she couldn’t think. All she could see was her son’s clammy face, just like Alexander’s, and how Philip’s eyes closed before finishing the melody. Alexander looked like him now, afraid. She feared that Alexander won’t finish the melody.

She stared at his face, and she realized he was speaking when she saw his mouth moving as his eyes widen in pain every now and then. “-to the anguish, which I have so horribly exposed you. My Eliza, words cannot describe the guilt that is eating my conscience, I can only hope for a simple, small light of forgiveness.”

When Eliza didn’t respond, Alexander noticed the shaking shoulders before he noticed the quick breaths. He reached his hand forward, and grasped hers weakly. He licked his dried lips, “Remember, my Eliza, you are a Christian.”

She couldn’t look into his eyes, she feared she would only see a stranger, not the man she had fallen in love with so many years ago. He gripped her hand tighter, and her eyes flew up and met his.

Eliza quickly stood up from the chair she didn’t even notice she sat in, before grabbing a white handkerchief by the bedside table. She took a deep breath, and started cleaning the sweat covering his forehead and neck while fanning his face with her free hand. Even after she sat down, she continued to fan him, watching as a sigh escaped his lips, before he was overcome with a coughing fit that made the doctor give him more wine to numb the pain.

A servant entered the room carrying glasses of water, which she left in the table near the entrance, then she spoke fearfully, “Is there anything I could be of assistance?”

Eliza sprung to her feet, and asked her kindly, “would you do me the favor of sending a message to my sister, Angelica Church? She must be at the Grange, just a couple of ways downtown.”

“Yes, madam,” the servant nodded, “what would be the message?”

She looked back to Alexander, who had his eyes closed, but she could clearly see the rise and fall in his chest. “Inform her that Mr. Hamilton’s condition is far worse than expected. And please tell her to not bring the children to the Bayard’s house, they need not see their father in such state.”

The servant bowed, and left the room quickly. Eliza took her seat again, eyes closed as she leaned back towards the chair. She opened her eyes again when she hear a knock on the door, before a priest walked inside the room.

He gazed at Hamilton with expressive eyes full of sadness and sorrow, and it greatly surprised her when she saw her husband’s eyes brighten slightly. The reverend walked forward and grasped Hamilton’s hand, 

She looked between the two men, and gasped slightly once she came to the conclusion. Her theory was further verified when the reverend asked her if she would be witness to the final word of the Lord. She nodded tightly, and tried to ignore the tears trying to free their way from her eyes.

Reverend Mason, she learned, was an old friend of Alexander’s, and as far as she could see, he admired the man in the deathbed, for his voice shook at times after being overcome with feelings of sorrow.

“I am a sinner,” Hamilton said, and looked at Eliza, “I look to His mercy.”

Then the Reverend spoke softly about the bible and the word of God. Alexander asked for the final communion, but the Reverend could not accede, for he had no such power. Alexander merely smiled, and whispered his appreciation. Then, Reverend Mason asked Alexander about his intentions in the duel, and he spoke, “I went to the field determined not to take  _ his  _ life.”

At last he left, and Reverend Moore stepped into the room in his place. He walked towards Alexander, but maintained a farther distance. He was more cautious, less forgivable, less compassionate.

Alexander yet again asked for the final communion, but Reverend Moore was hesitant. Moore viewed dueling as acts from the devil, but Alexander held his hands towards the sky, and said, “I have no ill against Colonel Burr. I met him with a fixed resolution to do him no harm. I forgive all that happened.”

The reverend, after a moment of thought, was convinced, and Hamilton received his wish. When the couple were left by themselves once again, Alexander whispered serenely to the air, “I am happy.”

He fell asleep that day, with Eliza by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the course of this story completely because I just recently finished Chernow's biography, and decided to focus more on the actual facts, since they are more heart breaking :( 
> 
> Much of the events narrated here are true. When they send a message to Eliza, they didn't mention anything about a duel as to not harm her mental health. Also, the whole reverend thing is true, and much of what Alexander said was actually said by Alexander Hamilton. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated! Thank you for reading!!
> 
>  
> 
> (NOT EDITED)


	3. Helpless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was quiet.

_ July 12, 1804 _

 

 

He breathed sharply, his eyes lidded as she held his hand tightly.

 

The door opened, and she turned to see all her children standing by the door with her dearest sister and her husband. They all stared at Alexander's weak figure with horror in their eyes, and she had to close her own by being overcome with grief once again.

 

James was the first to walk forward hesitantly, his eyes wide as he reached forward to grasp his father's hand.

 

“Dad,” he whispered as he stood rigid by Alexander’s side. This brought John, William, and Alex Jr. forward as they crowded next to their brother, crying as they gazed at their father.

 

The younger ones and Angie were the ones who walked towards Eliza, their eyes wide with fear. Tears were streaming down their faces. She picked up her youngest son, Little Phil, and held him tightly.

 

“Mommy,” Angie whispered against her mother’s ear, “is daddy going to see Philip?”

 

This brought a new wave of emotions crashing into Eliza. She turned towards her dear daughter, smiled shakily, and nodded. “He’s going on a trip to see Philip.”

 

Angie nodded, “Good. Philip always tells me he wants to hug daddy and mommy again.”

 

Eliza smiled, and she hugged her daughter close, Little Phil in between their embrace.

 

Her sons were speaking to their father for a couple of more minutes, their eyes red.

 

Finally, she noticed Alexander closing his eyes and breathing sharply, small droplets running down his face.

 

“Children,” she spoke softly, “say goodbye to your father.”

 

A sob broke from James, but he still walked forward and hugged his father tenderly. James mumbled, “I love you.”

 

Then William walked forward, then John, then Alex Jr. with Eliza Holly, and finally Angie. They all whispered, “I love you.”

 

It was Alexander who spoke next, his eyes looking at his children one last time.

 

“I love all of you,” he rasped out, his eyes watering once again, “I’m so sorry.”

 

Angie smiled brightly, and said, “don't be. You’ll see Philip! He’s wanted to see you for so long.”

 

Alexander smiled too, and he whispered, “I want so see him too.”

 

“It's time to go,” Eliza said softly, nodding at Mr. Church, who ushered the children out of the room.

 

Little Philip started whining from his mother's grasp, and he reached forward towards his father. Eliza complied, and brought Little Phil up to his father's lips, where he gave him one last kiss. Little Phil, only two years old, said as best a he could, “Love daddy!”

 

Alexander's body shook as he shakily grabbed the meaty hand of his son, and he whispered, “I love you. So much.”

 

Angie then grabbed her brother, and they both walked out the room.

 

Angelica, who tried to quiet her loud sobs, walked towards Alexander in a shaky stride. When she finally arrived at his side, she laid a small kiss in his cheek. She whimpered, “Alexander-”

 

“I know.” He interrupted her, squeezing her hand shortly before letting go. She nodded, tried to smile at her sister, and left the room.

 

It was only Eliza and Alexander now.

 

She turned to Alexander when she heard a cough, and quickly grabbed a glass of water on the bedside. She placed the glass on his lips, and watched as droplets of blood trickled down his chin. She cleaned him with a white handkerchief, and let her hands rest on his chest.

 

He closed his eyes, and opened them again to gaze sorely at Eliza. “I’m so sorry, my love. I despise myself for all the pain I’ve brought upon you. I cannot ask for your forgiveness, only for a few more minutes of your comforting company and beautiful love.”

 

Even with death on his toes, Alexander still found the strength to sing praises to his wife. Eliza smiled as she climbed next to him in the bed, gingerly laying her head on his shaking shoulders as he inhaled sharply. His eyes stared at his beautiful wife, the wonderful woman he fell in love with and hurt deeply. He swallowed the lump in his throat, and spoke slowly, “Remember the first letter I wrote you?”

 

After a small nod from Eliza, he continued, “I remember having trouble writing you. I couldn’t find the perfect words for what I felt. You left me wordless, Elizabeth Hamilton. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t find the right words.” He coughed, pain contorted in his features. Eliza closed her eyes. “And now, I don’t know what to say to relieve the pain you must be feeling. I never wanted to see you so helpless.”

 

Eliza looked at her husband, who coughed more ruby blood. Her eyes were blurred with tears, and she let them fall; she needed to see him clearly. She stroke his pale face with gentle fingers, her lips trembling as she tried to steady her voice, “Your words rendered me helpless, Alexander.”

 

They both knew what words she was referring; the beautiful letters filled with poems of love, and the horrible pages filled with his disgusting sins.

 

And still, she kissed his clammy forehead with as much love as she could muster, and bravely placed a small, honest kiss in the corner of his mouth. His face lifted into an attempt at a smile.

 

And it was enough.

 

Alexander looked into the eyes that made him fall in love, and Eliza looked into the eyes that made her believe in everything.

 

He shakily raised his arm. She took it. He kissed her hand, just like he did when they first met, so long ago.

 

“Best of wives and best of women,” he smiled at her, and she smiled.

 

She tried to memorize the different shade in his eyes, the calmness and aching love that clouded his features as he looked at her. She tried to memorize the honest feelings radiating from his eyes, she tried to memorize _him_ as much as she could with the little time they had left.

 

And he simply stared at her beautiful face. It was quiet. But he smiled. And it was enough.

 

 

* * *

  
  


It was quiet when he died. Her grip in his hand never faltered even after she felt his slacken. She didn’t stop staring at his beautiful eyes even after they became glassy. She didn’t want to let go.

 

She laid her head on his chest, but it was quiet. There was no heartbeat, no poems, no melodies.

 

It was quiet.

 

_ It was quiet. _

 

A scream tore from her throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on real events. 
> 
> Facts:  
> 1\. Eliza did react this way to his death. Next chapter will go more in depth.  
> 2\. I'm sorry.  
> 3\. When they took his children to see him one last time, Alexander only opened his eyes, looked at them all, and closed them again. He couldn't find the strength to speak to them. (The part with the children comes from my mind.)  
> 4\. Angelica Church nee Schuyler was observed to be crying more than Eliza, and they even thought that it was her husband on his deathbed instead of his sisters.  
> 5\. No one really knows what Alexander's last words were. I tried to make them as heartbreaking as possible while still believable. Pardon me.  
> 6\. Next chapter is gonna be a killer. This is a warning. I'm sorry.
> 
> Thank you for reading. I'm sorry.


	4. One Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teach her how to say goodbye.

_There are moments that the words don't reach, there is suffering too terrible to name._

  
Her anguished screams filled the room with pure grief. Scalding tears slid down her face as she circled her arms on her Alexander.

She cried on his shoulder, but his hand wasn't rubbing her back in comfort.

She took his limp hand in hers, but they didn't tighten the hold.

She tried to listen to his pumping heart, but it was quiet.

Angelica could only watch with a heavy heart as her dearest sister broke in front of her very own eyes. She gently placed her hand on Eliza's shaking shoulders, but her sister flinched away from her touch.

"Eliza," she spoke gently, trying to snap her sister out of this painful moment, "please. Let go."

But Eliza couldn't hear her, because she continued to cry out in despair for her Hamilton.

Church entered the room shortly, and after a pleading look from Angelica, he briskly paced towards Eliza. He gripped her arm and pulled her off Alexander.

"NO!" Eliza screamed, kicking Church in the stomach as she tried to crawl back to her husband. "Alexander."

Angelica was crying once again, body shaking as she closed her eyes in a vain attempt to tune out the pangs that pierced her heart. The pangs that came from her sister's fatality, and the death of the man that had the power to satisfy her.

It was at then that Governor Morris, a fond friend of the Hamilton's, walked inside the room, a frown etched upon his features as he noticed his friend lying in peace, at last. He felt horribly saddened, but even more so when he noticed how the ever strong Eliza laid with her dead husband, cradling his body.

He walked towards Eliza slowly, and when he came beside her, he kneeled in the floor. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Eliza," he whispered mournfully, and her head snapped upward as she recognized his voice. "It's time."

But she had other ideas. With one bloodied hand, she grabbed the Governor's arm, "Mr. Morris, please. I need to see my Hamilton. Please."

"Eliza," he closed his eyes as Angelica came beside him.

"I need to see my Hamilton." She repeated with crazed eyes, "please, pray with me to our Lord. Pray for me. I need to see my Hamilton."

A loud sob escaped Angelica as she covered her mouth, staring terrified at her sister.

"Mr. Morris," She cried, "take care of my children, they'll understand. I need to see my Alexander. I need to go. I need my Alexander."

Governor Morris only stared at the agitated eyes that belonged to Elizabeth Hamilton. Angelica had enough.

A loud, painful crack echoed across the room as Eliza held her hand to her stinging cheek, mouth parted in shock. Angelica stared guiltily at blossoming color spreading across her sister's cheek, but she held no remorse.

Eliza looked at Angelica, then Governor Morris, and finally at the peaceful body of her Alexander. She trembled as she regained her breathing, never once taking her eyes off Alexander. She cupped his face in her hand, and looked into his glassy, beautiful eyes.

She placed a kiss on his cold mouth.

One last time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry.
> 
> FACTS:  
> 1\. Everything here is true (minus the Angelica slap)  
> 2\. Eliza did react this way. She told Governor Morris, who was very fond of the Hamilton's, to pray with her for her death, since she wanted to be reunited with her Hamilton once again.  
> 3\. This was probably the hardest chapter to write.  
> 4\. I'm sorry.  
> 5\. I'll try to rewrite some parts of this chapter. Not final piece.  
> 6\. I'm sorry again.


	5. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The world seemed to burn.

Eliza didn’t remember what happened next, all she could remember was lying limply on the bloody bed with Angelica, watching as strange men carried her Alexander away. Why were they taking him away?

 She voice her thoughts to her older sister, who softly responded, “My love, he needs to go. He’s resting now.”

 Eliza was confused, but she simply nodded. Why did her Hamilton need to go? Was he going to leave her again, just like he did all those years ago?

 She just shook her head and closed her eyes. _She was so tired._

 The darkness behind her eyes seemed to whisper her name, and she followed the murmurs as she tried to look for anything, anyone. When had the world become this still? When did the stars stop blinking? When did the sun say goodbye?

 When did she say goodbye?

 Did she even say goodbye?

 She opened her eyes, and the moon shone through the open window. Angelica had her arms around her, and Eliza felt safe in her sister’s arms. But she could still hear the soft, deadly whispers. _Eliza, Eliza, Eliza._

 Sleep clouded her eyes as she did not try to fight it off. Perhaps this was all a horrible nightmare, and when she woke, Alexander will be lying next to her in their bed, with eyes closed but with a beating heart.

 A smile grew in her features.

 That was it. This was all a nightmare, and she just needed to wake up, and she'll be with her Alexander, her Philip, her mother and her sister. She'll wake up, and she'll be with her whole family, happy, breathing, alive.

 She closed her eyes, and fell asleep with false hope growing in her heart.

* * *

 Angelica could not understand why Eliza gasped when they arrived at the Grange. She had been fine for the whole ride, more than fine. Angelica had noticed a smile appearing on her sister's face as she gazed out the carriage window, watching the colorful flowers and nimble clouds. Realization dawned on her when she saw Eliza smile brightly after seeing their house. Her sister was living in a false fantasy.

 And Angelica did not have the courage to pull her sister to reality.

 Which is why she stood next to Eliza as she opened the door, and called out, "Alexander!"

 She watched as Eliza entered the house, and Angelica was suddenly glad that the children where with their grandfather, and not here. She followed Eliza inside the house, gently closing the door behind her. Eliza had already looked in the kitchen and living room, and after not finding her husband, she laughed.

 "How silly of me," she said, shaking her head fondly, "He's probably in his study, he always is. That man does not know when to take a break!"

 Angelica simply stared at her sister as she walked towards the study, opening the door gently, and whispering "Alex."

 But he was not inside. Eliza walked towards Angelica with a frown, and muttered, "where has he gone to?"

 Angelica gathered a confused Eliza to her chest, and whispered, "Eliza, he's dead."

She wished she could be more compassionate to her sister, she truly did. But as much as she tried to deny it, Eliza was not the only one who lost someone that day. 

Eliza pulled away from Angelica like she was her worst enemy, eyes wide, "Angelica! Do not say that about Alexander."

 "My love," A tear rolled down her cheek as Angelica closed her eyes, "He was shot in a duel. You were by his side the whole time."

 "No," Eliza muttered, hands covering her mouth, "This cannot be. You're lying."

 "Eliza," she whispered as she gripped her sister again, "please. Open your eyes and grief. But do not live in this false dream. I cannot bear for you to become just like Angie."

 At the mention of her daughter, Eliza gasped. She struggled against Angelica, "my children! W-where are they?"

 "They're all safe," Angelica told her, soothing her sister by running her finger's through her raven locks, "They're with our father in Albany."

 Eliza nodded, and let her sorrows out as she clung to her sister, "Why did he have to leave us?"

 Angelica painfully let out a long sigh, trying to hide her true emotions. "I don't know, my love."

 

 

* * *

 

The funeral was three days later.

Fellow soldiers slowly lowered Alexander's basket, muttering their condolences and placing comforting hands on the widow and her children. Trinity Church is where he is buried, next to his son.

Angelica and her husband stood next to the Hamilton's. The elder sister gripped her younger sister's hand, eyes set on the coffin that held the man that had gripped their hearts mercilessly, helplessly.

The children were another case.

The eldest, Alex and James, stood next to their mother, face stoic, eyes vulnerable as they watched their father being lowered to his grave. Angie held the hands of the little ones, whispering soothing lullabies on their ears. A priest blessed the family with verses of the bible, reminding them of the comfort of God, and the bitter-sweet taste of death.

Everything seemed so quiet to everyone, but Eliza was living in the eye of the hurricane.

Time was such a strange melody. When Peggy had died, Eliza felt like the day lasted just a second. Short, pure with pain, incomprehensible as she lost her younger sister to the hands of death. When her mother died, the night felt like early morning, the beginning of just another sorrowful day. When Philip, her son, threw away his shot, the day was slow, never ending, a loop of misery that crawled to her insides and resided on her very own soul. When Alexander laid with Eliza for the last time, holding her hand, the day was like a hurricane- quiet, but ever so loud inside her mind.

Time was such a strange melody, and she felt like she was running out of time.

The service ended with a prayer, a song to our Almighty Lord. But as her family, and every other person who came to say goodbye, sang, Eliza could not find the strength to seek comfort in God.

* * *

 

When the Hamilton's returned home at last, the sun was setting in a beautiful halo across the painted sky.

Eliza tucked the younger children to bed, and tightly embraced her older sons. She placed a tender kiss on Angie's cheek, and softly carried baby Philip to his crib.

Angelica said goodbye to the children, promising to be back tomorrow morning, and left after giving her sister a hug and a kiss.

After making sure that her children were all in bed, Eliza walked with heavy breathing towards her and Alexander's room. Her hand shook as she gripped the knob and turned, expecting for a single second to see her husband hunched over the desk, fingers inked black as he scribbled endlessly. Alas, she was alone.

She walked towards their bed, and noticed the wrinkly folds from when Alexander laid there at night. She could still see a young couple foolishly in love. She could still see a tired couple who simply wanted peace.

She stared at the bed.

She hated the quiet.

Eliza kicked off her sandals, loosened her dark dress, and sighed slowly.  
  
She walked slowly towards his side, by the window. She laid down with open eyes. And she stared at the lively stars.  
  
She remembered their first night together, when they were deciding who would get what side of the bed. She wanted the right, she never liked the windows. And over time, she learned that he secretly hated them too. And yet, he still laid her down gently on the right side, kissed her with tenderness, and faced her. Since then, he always got the left. She got the right.  
  
She closed her eyes.

  
  
She had so much work to do.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Kudos and comments are deeply appreciated.
> 
>  
> 
> (N/E)


	6. Ever Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A love letter. One last time.

_"The true alchemists do not change lead into gold; they change the world into words." -William H. Gass_

 

 

She received the letter the next day.

Mr. Pendleton arrived, head bowed, eyes shut as he faced Mrs. Hamilton. She invited him to the garden just out of pure respect, but he declined. He began speaking briskly, "Mrs. Hamilton, moments like these cannot be described with words. I apologize for not being able to save your husband. I apologize for your and your family's sorrow."

It was an honest apology, that much she could tell. And yet, she could not help but curiously ask, "Mr. Pendleton, what is the purpose of your visit?"

He swallowed, "Before the duel began, Alexander wrote two letters addressed to you." He presented her a pair of neatly folded parchment, with the elegant signature of her dearest husband.

She felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes, but she thought to herself, _no more._

She took the letters from his hands, looking at Pendleton straight in the eye. She bowed light, "Thank you, sir."

He nodded his head once again, and left the widow with her husband's final words.

* * *

 

She knew she was stalling.

Eliza had put the pair of letters in Alexander's desk, staring at them with wide eyes. She was scared. Of course she was scared. These were Alexander's last written words. 

It was such an remotely foreign thought, to read the last words that Alexander ever wrote. It was impossible, that man never stopped writing, never took a break. But the proof was in front of her very own eyes, in the form of two small, yellowed parchments shut together with red wax. Her heart shattered when she imagined the pain that Alexander must have felt when he picked up a quill, and wrote for the last time. Did he stain his fingers with the bleeding words, or did he carefully craft the letter to perfection? Did he write like he was actually running out of time, or did he think about the words over and over? Did the words shake on the parchment paper, or were they sturdy and sure? Were there tears blended with his declaration, or simple farewell's? Was it difficult to write for the last time, or was it like saying goodbye to an old friend, knowing that you'll meet once again?

The answers awaited her, but she knew that she wasn't ready.

She left his study, knowing that one day, she'll have the courage to pick up those letters, and read her husband's words for the last time.

* * *

Angelica loved her sister more than anything in this life. She always supported her, cared for her, loved her when no one else would.

But she saw every day how broken her younger sister was becoming with the mystery of those letters. Angelica would see how Eliza worked all day, tidying up the house, cooking meals, comforting her children, writing to Hamilton's friends. She would distract herself in every way that she could, but Angelica always saw how Eliza would hesitate outside his study. Her hand would rise slightly, touching the handle, but then she would drop it suddenly, and continue forward.

It must have been around two days later when Angelica finally spoke to her sister.

"Eliza," She started, her hand gripping her sister's as they roamed around the lush garden, "Love, you know it's time."

She played the innocent. The youngest looked at her older sister with doe eyes, head cocked to the side, and asked, "For what?"

Angelica simply stared at her, a smile tugging at the corner's of her mouth. "It's already been more than two weeks since Alexander's death. It's time you lift that weight from your shoulders."

Eliza lowered her eyes, her hand tightening on Angelica's. "I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I'm strong enough."

She engulfed her younger sister, bringing her to her bosom just like she did when they were younger, when Eliza or Peggy had nightmares. She gently ran her hands through Eliza's locks, humming slowly. "Eliza, you are a Schuyler _and_ a Hamilton. You are the strongest woman I have ever seen, and I cannot even begin to tell you how proud I am to be your sister."

The younger lifted her head, locked into her sister's wise eyes, and smiled. "I'll read them tonight."

Angelica smiled, satisfied.

* * *

 

Eliza bid goodbye to her sister when the sun started to set. She cleaned the kitchen, organized the food in the cellar, and tucked her younger children to bed. She sang them lullabies until they fell asleep, and then kissed the eldest goodnight, giving them slight freedom to stay up for a bit longer. She smiled as they talked quietly in the living room, and retired upstairs.

She walked towards their room, changed into her night robes, and light up a candle. She sighed slowly, and began the short walk to Alexander's study. She stood in front of the wooden door, and if she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine the faint, familiar scratch of quill against paper. She turned the handle, and walked into the room.

Since _that_ day, Eliza had not moved a single thing in Alexander's study. The whole house had changed; everything but this room. This walls, the air still carried Alexander's essence, his faint smell, his words, everything.

The leather chair creaked slightly once she put her whole weight. She smiled fondly when she remembered how Alexander had never let anyone sit in the chair, no one but Philip.

Philip must have been three or four, and Angie was merely two. She remembered how the three of them, Eliza included, had bothered Alexander all day, giggling every time he grumbled under his breath after having written the wrong words. But he still had a little smile playing in the corners of his mouth, and Eliza had been grinning the whole time.

And then, Philip had crawled towards Alexander, his meaty hands trying to climb into his dad's lap. And Alexander had put his quill down, and with ink-stained fingers, he grabbed Philip and set him next to him. Eliza remembered just how messy everything had gotten, since Philip decided to grab the ink pot and pour it onto himself and Alexander. The clothes were ruined, and the chair still had specks of dark ink scattered like stars, but that had been one of her dearest memories.

Eliza sat on the very same chair. Only now, her husband and son were dead, and her daughter was lost to herself.

The candle flickered slightly, disrupting her memories. She grabbed the first letter, tracing the pads of her fingers on the uneven words spelling her name. Elegant, lovely, full of pain and sorrow. 

She looked at the flames from the candle, remembering how there was a time where she burned all her letters. A time where she erased herself from Alexander's story.

But then, she looked back at his handwriting bleeding through the thin paper, and she just knew that she had to preserve all his work and passion. She knew that this was her decision- to remain hidden from history, or to put herself back in the narrative.

She opened the letter.

* * *

 

_[New York, July 4, 1804]_

 

This letter, my very dear Eliza, will not be delivered to you, unless I shall first have terminated my earthly career; to begin, as I humbly hope from redeeming grace and divine mercy, a happy immortality.

If it had been possible for me to have avoided the interview, my love for you and my precious children would have been alone a decisive motive. But it was not possible, without sacrifices which would have rendered me unworthy of your esteem. I need not tell you of the pangs I feel, from the idea of quitting you and exposing you to the anguish which I know you would feel. Nor could I dwell on the topic lest it should unman me.

The consolations of Religion, my beloved, can alone support you; and these you have a right to enjoy. Fly to the bosom of your God and be comforted. With my last idea; I shall cherish the sweet hope of meeting you in a better world.

Adieu best of wives and best of Women. Embrace all my darling Children for me.

Ever yours,

A. H.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FACTS:  
> 1\. That was Alexander's real letter for Eliza.  
> 2\. Alexander actually wrote two letters. The second one will be mentioned in later chapters.  
> 3\. The quote that Eliza uses to describe Angie, "lost to herself," actually comes from a letter that Eliza Holly wrote after learning about her sister's death.  
> 4\. The quote in the beginning was just to show how Eliza must have been feeling about Alexander at this time.  
> 5\. The updates to this story are slow because of many reasons. One is that it's very hard to write a nonfictional fanfiction, since I have to do a lot of research to try to put accurate info in the story. Also, I am having a lot of problems getting inside Eliza's head, since I am only a young girl with no wisdom about loss.  
> 6\. I am trying my very best to make this story as best as possibly, so please, just give me a chance.  
> 7\. All the chapters in this fanfiction are not edited. I will begin editing once I reach chapter 10.  
> 8\. Thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> Listen to Philipa Soo reading Alexander's letter: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=08Vbf16Cff0  
> See the actual, handwritten letter: https://blogs.loc.gov/law/files/2016/09/Hamilton-to-Eliza-July-4-1804-.jpg


	7. The Story of Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and your words flooded my senses, your sentences left me defenseless.

There was a time where Elizabeth Schuyler would have giddily laughed at letters arriving from her suitor, her Alexander.

There was a time where Elizabeth Hamilton would have burned all of her letters, erasing herself from Alexander's narrative.

Now, Eliza searches and tries to make sense of the thousands of pages of writings, trying to preserve Alexander's legacy.

Legacy? What is a legacy? For Eliza, she never bothered thinking about this question. Having her children, her husband, a home, that was enough. But Alexander came as a hurricane, and suddenly, her life belonged to _his_ legacy.

He destroyed her life because of his legacy. He ruined their family. He brought misery, chaos to her life. And yet, she still decides to answer that simple question.

Legacy? What is a legacy? For Eliza, it's preserving the work that cost her so much. For Eliza, a legacy is telling someone's story.

And now, she stands in the leather chair, on his office, reading words off the stained pages, reading the palaces and cathedrals that were build by a mere foundation of feeling and pain.

She heard the voices of her children downstairs, the soft thudding of feet and the occasional giggle that would escape her youngest ones. She looked back at the enormous stack of parchment accumulated by the desk, waiting to be read.

Eliza just shook her head, stood up from the creaking chair, and walked downstairs towards her family.

* * *

There were some days where she, along with Angelica, would often gaze and gaze at the parchment, struck with the power that his words still had over them. It happened, more than once, that Angelica would finish reading a letter and excuse herself silently, walking out the door. Eliza would stare at her sister, and then noticed the same greeting of the letters.

> My dearest, Angelica.

Eliza was never quite as sharp as her sister, never quite as astute. But there was one thing that all Schuyler's shared- and that was sacrificing one's happiness for someone else's. And in that moment, as she held Alexander's letter to her sister, she realized that her sister was truly the braver of the two.

She left the letter next to Angelica's parasol, as well as every other letter addressed with her name, unopened.

The day passed on, and near the afternoon, Angelica began to depart.

"Goodbye, my Eliza." Angelica hugged her sister, who in turned wrapped her arms around the elder's frame.

"Bye, Angel." Eliza murmured back, a smile gracing her face as they broke the embrace.

Eliza stood there, watching as her sister noticed the bundle of letters next to her parasol. Their eyes met, and a thousand words traveled between the bond unique for sisters. A light dawned on Angelica, and all Eliza did was smile at her sister. Neither said anything as Angelica gathered her things, letters included, and left the house.

* * *

Currently, Eliza was reading a letter meant for his father, a letter that never reached him. Alexander had told her, once deep within their marriage, about his need to leave his old home after an atrocious hurricane. 

His words touched her heart in a different manner than that of which they had made her fall helpless, long ago. The desperation, the sheer necessity to escape.

> _"Its impossible for me to describe or you to form any idea of it. It seemed as if a total dissolution of nature was taking place. The roaring of the sea and wind, fiery meteors flying about it in the air, the prodigious glare of almost perpetual lightning, the crash of the falling houses, and the ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed, were sufficient to strike astonishment into Angels."_

Those letters were the ones that brought her to tears. The letters that Alexander kept hidden, the letters that he never shared. It was such a strange, foreign thought to think that Alexander had hidden some of his writing. It had her close her eyes as she realized that perhaps Alexander was ashamed of those letters, and kept them hidden so that no one ever judged him for being an immigrant. It only occurred to her now that Alexander was a completely different man that the one she chose to marry.

She never saw this side of him- the helpless side. If she searched her memories, the only time she truly saw Alexander like this was three years ago, when their son aimed his pistol at the sky, and paid for it.

> _"What can I do better than withdraw from the scene? Every day proves to me more and more that this American world was not made for me."_

Reading his thoughts proved to be harder and harder each time Eliza entered his office. She tried to ignore the possibilities that entered her mind as she read the hopelessness that clouded him as he wrote shakily on the parchment paper. 

It was only that night, as she laid awake on his side of the bed, clutching one of his letters to her, that a horrible realization dawned on her.

_What if Alexander always wanted to die?_

* * *

 Soon after Angelica arrived at the Grange, Eliza took her hands on her own, and led her away from her children.

"Angelica, I need to go see his grave." Angelica took notice of her sister's wide, but coherent eyes, and immediately nodded.

"Of course." She gave her sister a smile, "Do I get the children ready?"

Eliza shook her head rapidly, "No! No, I need to go alone."

Angelica stared at her, and after finding what she looked for in her face, she nodded. "I'll take care of the kids."

Eliza kissed her sister's cheek, muttering a thousand words of gratitude as she hugged Angelica with all her might. The younger bid goodbye to her children, saying that she had to take care of something, and gave one last smile to Angelica, before she walked out the door.

Angelica merely shook her head, leaned against the pillar behind her, and sighing slowly. Then, she turned around, plastered a smile, and walked towards her nephews and nieces.

* * *

Trinity Church was mostly alone, save for a couple facing the chapel, and a man kneeling in front of a grave. Eliza walked steadily towards the grave, her eyes immediately drawn to the name engraved on the stone. 

 

> Alexander Hamilton
> 
> The Patriot of incorruptible Integrity.
> 
> The Soldier of approved Valour.
> 
> The Statesman of consummate Wisdom.
> 
> Whose Talents and Virtues will be admired.

 

As she stood in front of the pillar, she couldn't help but admire the amount of beautiful flowers that hoarded around the marble. Upon further inspection, she saw the different names on the paper by the flowers. She saw the Church family, the Morris', the Mulligan, and to her surprise, the name Jefferson shone with violet roses. There were other names that she did not recognize, but she could safely assume that they were just other civilians paying their respects.

She, herself, did not bring any flowers, but she did pull out many letters from her parcel, letters that she never knew existed.

Eliza knelled down in front of his grave, not caring about the dirt staining her dress, nor about what others would think about her. All she cared about was her Hamilton, and what she just leaned about him.

She swallowed down the sudden lump in her throat, and began to softly speak, "I know that it's silly to think that you are listening to me. If I learned anything about you for the past years, then I think that you are probably bothering Mr. Washington right now. Or maybe you are finally reuniting with John, and your mom, and Philip!"

Though she was smiling, small droplets fell into the grass below her as she inhaled for air. She began again, "I just came to try to make sense of everything."

The sun was shining on the plaque as she read the words over and over, remembering his eyes, his voice. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his presence next to her, caressing the side of her face, holding her hand like he always did.

"You never really told me anything about your past, just the general. But," she held the letters closer to her, "I found some letters of yours that, just, showed me how you sometimes felt."

She drew a sharp breath, "God, I never knew that you felt like that."

The letters seemed to whisper her name, and as she traced his words, she could have sworn that she heard his voice. _Eliza._

"Alexander," she said his name, and the world around her seemed to spin, but it was only the wind. The sun in her eyes shone with might, but all she could feel was his eyes on her. "Please, send me a sign. Tell me that when you went into that duel, it was only to defend your honor. Please tell me that you did not throw away your shot because you wanted to die."

The clouds above her continued their path across the sky. The flowers in front of her continued to lay beautifully across his grave. The letters in her hands continued to declare his hopelessness.

She received no sign.

Eliza buried the letters next to his grave, under fresh earth that entered her nails and pierced all her senses.

She walked away with a new kind of weight upon her shoulders.

* * *

It wasn't until that night, as she tried, but failed, to go to sleep, that she felt it. She felt _him_.

At first, it was just a slight shiver that ran across her spine. Then, it turned into a sudden, overwhelming warmth that spread from her toes to her heart.

She sat up from the bed in an instant, looking around for the source, but finding nothing.

As she was about to lie down again, her breath was drawn from her as she noticed something for the first time.

There, in her night stand, was a lone, white quill stained with fresh ink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are many historians who debate over this topic- did Alexander Hamilton go into the duel to try to defend his honor, or knowing that he would not escape death this one time? In my own opinion, I think that Alexander just knew that he had already escaped death too many times, and it was finally time to meet his old friend again. Whether he was suicidal during this time, or not, we will never know. The ending to this chapter is open to debate. Did Eliza truly feel Alexander, or was it all just in her imagination? I will love to know what you guys think about this.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (The italicized quotes come from actual letters by Alexander Hamilton.)
> 
> (N/E)


End file.
